


The Scars Will Remain

by Weresilver



Series: The Fallen Arise [1]
Category: Doom (2005), Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Gen, John Grimm is Leonard McCoy, Nightmares, Olduvai, POV Alternating, Scars, Talking About the Past, Tarsus IV, emotional scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weresilver/pseuds/Weresilver
Summary: John didn't believe he should be there. Jim didn't think he had anything better. Each of them has their own secrets, but there is something to be found by sharing your own life story.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Series: The Fallen Arise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578391
Comments: 15
Kudos: 164





	The Scars Will Remain

_Where is your home, vagabond?  
Where do you go when you don't belong?_

_Can't put down roots 'cause it won't last long  
Everything here will all be gone_

_Searching on and on,  
always on the road._

The first time it happened, Leonard woke up before Kirk did more than shift slightly on his bed. The doctor was covered in sweat, breathing rapidly and already sitting up. He walked out of the bedroom, stopping at the door to look around the dorm. It had been barely a week, he was not used to the beige walls just yet.

He sighed, questioning just what the hell he was thinking the previous week. Starfleet. _Space_. The thing that, in one way or another, had taken away all he could say he once had. There was no way to blame the alcohol; the burning sensation was its only effect at that point, and even that was shortlived.

The decision had been solely his own.

He settled on the couch with a glass of the cheap whiskey they had agreed to get as soon as they realized they were sharing a room. The Kirk kid at least wasn't as bright-eyed and eager as the rest of the people in that shuttle, but Leonard would still have preferred a room of his own. Especially if being in Starfleet meant the nightmares would return.

He unceremoniously downed the drink, focusing on the quickly fading burn down his throat rather than on the memory of Olduvai.

*****

The first time it happened, Jim woke up well after sunrise, coming short of simply jumping out of the bed. On the other side of the room, the other bed was already empty and made. First weekend and McCoy -- he decided the man did not look like a Leonard -- was already off to Starfleet Medical, most likely.

Jim ran his hands over his face, taking a steadying breath. The anniversary was approaching. Quickly. Nine years didn't feel like that long ago but it also wasn't that recent. He knew he should just let it go, but the body count still haunted him, and the whole memory of his time there often resurfaced this time of the year.

He often did so well on keeping those memories buried underneath everything people thought that was James Tiberius Kirk…

He did jump off the bed then, walking into the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror betrayed how exhausted he still was, the bags under his eyes looking particularly dark that morning. With a heavy sigh, he washed his face, draining the last hint of sleepiness from his body.

He walked into the small kitchen of the dorm, decidedly empty if it weren't for Jim himself, and started preparing something that could resemble breakfast. It was a better option than letting his mind relive Tarsus IV.

*****

Like every other night, Leonard woke up hours before sunrise. He tried going back to sleep, like every other night. This time, to no avail. Dr. Phillip Boyce almost kicked him out of Medical before he "overworked himself in the first month," but he would rather have something to do with himself than waste time tossing and turning on the bed.

He stilled when a soft sigh filled the bedroom. He waited for anything else from the roommate he honestly forgot he had, but other than a mumbled apology, nothing happened. The kid was deep asleep, talking to whoever he was dreaming about.

He moved out of the bedroom as silently as he could and turned on a holo-movie in the living room. Old and dated, Kirk had commented when he first caught it on some days prior, and Leonard couldn't disagree, but it still was one of his personal favorites. It was distraction enough.

*****

Like every other night, Jim woke up vaguely aware he'd said something in his sleep. He turned to the other side, blearily blinking his eyes open. He wasn't in his dorm, like every other night. He didn't turn to look at the person lying beside him before getting up to get dressed and leave. He locked the door behind him, like that was the least he could do.

As he walked toward the dorm buildings, the morning sounds -- birds and the first few shuttles -- got progressively louder. Some people were already out in morning jogs as well, and Jim mentally commended them for their bravery; the breeze was way too cold to be inviting.

Lost in thought, he almost missed the "Hey" he received as a greeting. He looked up to see McCoy leaving the building, wearing a medical uniform and carrying a small bag with him. Jim nodded his response, walking inside before the doctor could ask where he had been. The topic of his one-night stand was not how he wanted to start the day.

*****

Boyce had let him know beforehand, although quite vaguely, about the mood he might find Kirk in on that day; he didn't expect to find his roommate content on staying in, however. For the three months that they've been at the Academy, Leonard was certain he had never even studied in the dorm.

"Are you sick or something?" He asked in spite of himself. Kirk simply turned to him with a scowl that Leonard ignored. "You never stay in, so I want to make sure you're not bringing some vicious virus with you." He briefly paused. "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine," Kirk replied curtly, turning back to the PADD he had in hands. Leonard settled on the other end of the couch with his own device, truly ignoring the look Kirk gave him the moment he sat down. "Don't you have anywhere to go today?"

The tone clearly meant ' _I really don't want company_ ', but no, he didn't have anywhere to be that day. Leonard shook his head without looking at the kid -- and he really should stop referring to him like that, at some point -- or the small packages of food he tried hiding with him.

Kirk let out a sigh but didn't say anything else and neither did he make any attempts to leave. So each continued their reading in silence.

*****

He was hiding. Waiting. Nighttime couldn't come fast enough. He needed to sneak into a supply warehouse and bring them something. Anything would do. But he needed the night to come.

Farther into the cave where Jim spent the past few weeks in, faint sniffling made his heart squeeze painfully. He couldn't remember when was the last time they ate something beyond small stolen food, but they had to venture back into the colony one at a time lest they all get caught and killed on the spot.

The nine of them were on Kodos' kill list, whatever that man's criteria were. Things were fucked up. They were _kids_ , for god's sake, and Jim was already the second oldest of the group. He felt somewhat responsible for them.

He gasped in surprise when a body, considerably smaller than his own, ran into him and hugged him tightly. "Jimmy," the boy quietly sobbed into his side, "Do you really have to go there?"

"Kev," Jim called softly, gently patting the younger's boy head, "Yeah, I have to, everyone else is hurt." The boy held tighter in spite of his frail frame and looked up to see Jim's rueful smile. "I'll be back real soon, alright?"

The boy, Kevin, reluctantly let him go. Jim didn't quite want to go either, but he meant what he said. He was the only one who could, that night.

He had the path memorized since before the colony became hell, sneaking off just because he could. The only difference was that now he knew the guards' rotation as well. Jim ignored the stench of something rotten coming from one particular building, but his stomach still lurched because of it.

He padded across the street, circled to the back and jumped up to grab onto a window ledge. Once he was in, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He made a point of taking only the bare minimum he needed to feed the other kids, but…

Something fell behind him, and Jim froze. The first of Kodos' guards appeared shortly to check the source of the noise. Jim dropped everything and ran, but the man was quicker, stronger, _fed_ , and easily picked him up by the waist.

He fought and protested. He kicked and punched the hardest he could, but it was as if he wasn't hitting that man most of the time.

Until he punched _something_.

*****

Leonard hadn't bothered turning the TV on that night. Nothing of interest, he had told himself, but mostly, he wanted some rest. He decided to get Kirk his own bottle of alcohol, with the way he was going through what should be shared whiskey.

Maybe if he could still get drunk, he would have somewhat better sleeping habits. Or a fucked-up liver, one or the other. Leonard chuckled into the glass but put it down without finishing the drink. With a sigh, he stood up, planning on an early morning walk.

A quiet sigh caught his attention from the bedroom, giving him pause. Some mumbled demands made their way out of the room, and soon enough, it sounded like a plea. He walked back in.

Kirk was agitated, thrashing on the bed and still talking. Against what was likely the better choice, Leonard moved closer, taking a gentle hold of his arms in order to get him to stop moving. It failed quite miserably; the younger man started to move even more.

"Kir-- Jim!"

If anything, getting hit square on his cheek was a good enough reminder that he did still feel pain. The kid had stopped moving, at least. Jim sat up with confusion clear across his face.

"Mornin', sleeping beauty," Leonard spoke casually, watching Jim's blue eyes whip around as he took in where he was.

"Did I wake you up?" Jim asked sheepishly, apparently aware of how little he did sleep. Leonard simply shook his head. "I, uh…" He took a deep breath, looking down at the fist Leonard was still holding. "I punched you, shit, I'm so sorry, Bones…"

"What did you just say?" Jim looked up at him and opened his mouth to speak, but Leonard didn't let him just yet. "Apologies accepted, but what did you just _call_ me?"

"Something that stuck from the shuttle ride from Iowa."

"Of all things I said on that shuttle, that's what stuck?"

Jim shrugged. "Better than the fit you threw after you were dragged out of the bathroom."

Leonard groaned at the memory. Definitely not one of his best moments, but Jim managed to laugh at it after god knows what nightmare he just had.

_I like digging holes and  
hiding things inside them._

_When I grow old, I hope  
I won't forget to find them._

_I've got no roots,  
but my home was never on the ground._

Jim blearily opened his eyes. He yawned. He turned to the bed across the room and, in the faint artificial light coming in from the window, he could see it was empty and made. As usual. It would still take some time for the sun to rise, and Jim wondered if Bones ever truly slept.

He was actually beginning to care about the man. A month later, and Jim still didn't quite wrap his head around how simple Bones' suggestion for dealing with his nightmare had been. Maybe that had to do with him finishing the bottle of whiskey that night. He needed it, and Bones let him have it.

He thought he had fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of a conversation, but maybe he had found enough balance to go to the bedroom. He really wasn't sure what had happened, in all honesty.

Jim got up, walking into the bathroom for a quick shower. They were approaching the end of the first term, and with it came god knows how many papers. He honestly hoped that was the only thing keeping the doctor awake.

*****

Leonard slowly opened his eyes. He sighed. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands and straightened his back. He still had a couple of hours left on his shift, and falling asleep on the job surely wouldn't be well seen. Or do him any good, all things considered.

The noise outside of the office was minimum, but the combat training classes still had some time left to go. _Then_ things would probably get busier. They always did, according to Boyce. Leonard just appreciated having more to do than listening to whatever gossip was going around.

His comm chirped with a message. _Take a day off. You're overworking yourself. - Dr. Phillip Boyce._ Okay, maybe he was. Leaving for early runs around the campus, not actually getting more than a couple of hours of sleep each night and spending the remainder of his days between classes and his shifts Starfleet Medical… He was hardly helping himself.

Leonard stood up and went back to work, currently just helping some of the less experienced doctors in the Academy. He had the vague impression Boyce was actively trying to tire him out; it would take more than that to do it, unfortunately.

*****

Jim got back from a nearby bar late enough that he mentally cursed at the noise the door made as it closed. And he cursed again when he heard his name being called from the couch.

"Bones." Jim approached from behind the couch. The doctor was reading something on his PADD, but he looked up once Jim came closer. "Shouldn't you be asleep or something? We start early tomorrow."

"I'll be fine."

"Yeah, somehow," Jim scoffed. Seriously, how was he ever _fine_ with this? "Are you an insomniac or something?"

"What I am is none of your business," his voice was almost flat, save for the hint of annoyance he showed then. "Besides, you're not one to talk when you smell like alcohol."

Jim frowned, took a sniff at his t-shirt and grimaced. It did stink. "In my defense, it was Gary's fault." At least his misfortune with some odd drink that night got a chuckle out of Bones.

*****

Leonard walked into Boyce's office already unsure of what the man wanted with him. He was even more confused when he was simply handed a small vial of medicine. He frowned as he read the label.

"Leonard," Boyce spoke as a greeting. The doctor's expression was unreadable, and his voice was entirely too neutral. "How are you feeling?"

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine, Phil." There was an edge to his voice he never meant to add, but Jim asking much the same question for days on end was enough. "Thanks for asking."

He breathed deeply. "John, I've known you for a decade and a half," the older-looking doctor leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. "Cut the act." Leonard could only sigh and sit down on the chair across from Boyce. The man was one hell of a physician, alright. "Take the pills and go actually rest."

"I'm perfectly capable of carrying on with my work."

"I'm sure you are," he smiled, leaning back against the chair. "Until you're too exhausted to do anything and collapse. Take the pills, John, doctor's orders."

*****

Jim didn't wait for any sort of instruction. He probably would still have done the contrary to what he would be told, anyway. One by one, he and some other cadets started dragging people away from the downed shuttle.

He was distantly aware that Bones should be on shift, and he was going to _hate_ this whole situation.

Jim cursed at the burn he noticed only after everything had quieted down around the shuttle, but he was adamant about only visiting Medical a few hours later, once the place would have hopefully quieted down as well.

That was not exactly what he found when he walked in with a poorly bandaged arm. He scanned the place for a familiar face, but there were way too many people going around.

It took him a moment, but his eyes stopped at the familiar figure of his roommate. Nearly frozen off to the side, as a nurse took the covered -- _Oh_. Jim approached him slowly, trying in the meantime to figure out what to say.

"You better be here to see a doctor, Kirk." He hadn't even turned to look at him and Jim involuntarily tensed, sending a jolt of pain down his arm. Bones sighed, running his hands down his face. "Come on."

Bones led him to a side room, away from the commotion in the lobby, and Jim rolled his sleeve up and removed the loose bandage. The doctor was silent as he dressed the injury, which was rather unusual. Bones had been the first to tell him how much of an idiot he was on enough occasions.

"Bones," Jim called tentatively. The doctor's eyes shot up and, for a brief moment, Jim saw something else in the hazel eyes. "Who was it?"

"Mara Korby," he said after a beat, returning his attention to Jim's arm. He recognized that name, she was-- "Command track, second year. Shuttle basically crashed on top of her."

He finished passing the regenerator over his arm, but neither of them moved for some minutes. It felt longer than it probably was. Bones simply ran his hands through his hair and stood up with a deep breath.

Jim settled on leaving him with a pat on the shoulder, positive he'd just get in the way by hovering around.

*****

His whole body burned. Not for long, but it did. He opened his eyes; he actually opened his eyes, he was still alive and breathing. He was still in the same room, but the barricade he and Sam had put up was undone.

And she wasn't around either.

John stood up, momentarily looking at his reflection in the mirror. No injuries. He'd survived the 24th chromosome without mutating. He turned to leave, grabbing his rifle from the floor.

He turned corridor after corridor in that godforsaken facility, finding more mutated personnel than corpses. The few bodies he did find were already partially eaten. Some were still surrounded by zombies. He shot them all down.

His sole intention was stopping this madness before it got to the surface and finding Sam. He called for her whenever things were silent enough, but there was never any response. If anything, it only drew the mutants' attention.

He was acutely aware of every bullet he fired and every turn he made, forming a detailed map in his head that included where the bodies were being left behind. Sam had to be moving, John was on the second walk through the corridors and there were no signs of her just yet. He refused to think of another explanation.

A body out of place caught his attention. He had walked down this particular corridor less than twenty minutes earlier and there had been nothing noteworthy. Retaking his steps slowly, he paused over the body and looked around.

A mutant leaped out from the corner, moving with open hands. He didn't have to look for very long, at least. He stepped aside, it wasn't that difficult to avoid it. But what he saw when it turned around made his blood run cold.

Beneath the mutated flesh and all the snarling, John could see Samantha clearly. Her hands and mouth were covered in blood; someone else's blood, most likely. He lowered his gun, simply staring at the figure in front of him, unable to find words or much will to move.

She did move, however. Hands -- claws were aiming for his neck. But she never reached him, a plasma bullet taking her off of her path. John turned around, equally grateful and enraged, and raised his gun once again.

Sarge had turned his own gun against him. John barely registered the small smile the man had before he said, "We can't let the C24 walk out of here, Reaper." He fired the final round. "And that includes you."

*****

Jim was aware that he mumbled in his sleep. He was definitely not aware that Bones apparently did the same. He was in the kitchen, unwilling to go to the library due to how cold it was, but the dorm was small enough that he could hear indistinct words. And that was kind of it.

He had methodically ignored the half-empty pill bottle, glad enough that the man was actually sleeping. Something Jim should do soon instead of trying to cram anything else at that point. He gathered all his things on the counter, where he wouldn't forget them in the morning and walked into the bedroom.

Before he could settle down and order the lights off, however, Bones sat up with a jolt, gasping, his hands searching for something around his bed. Whatever it was, he didn't find it before meeting Jim's gaze.

If anyone asked him, Jim would say that the doctor simply jumped out of bed and made it to the bathroom in no more than three steps, slamming the door shut behind him. Jim took a moment to recover enough to find his voice again, giving slow, careful steps toward the door.

"Bones?" His sole reply was a grunt that at least confirmed he was being heard. "Bones, is everything alright?"

A minute or two passed without a reply. Jim simply stood there, waiting. The door eventually opened, and Jim couldn't help the frown from seeing the doctor's state. Worse than when he knew that Bones hadn't slept. Maybe he was a little paler overall, but the bags under his eyes were definitely darker than the last time he actually _looked_ at his face.

Bones was the one to give him a light smack on the shoulder, effectively moving Jim out of his way. He grabbed his jacket, put it on and walked out. Jim was silently trailing after him and would stick around for as long as he wasn't told to get lost.

_Would you never die  
if you lived a life  
frozen and empty?_

_What you fighting for  
when you start a war  
and you’re your own worst enemy?_

Leonard ignored the first crack he heard. He would worry about it later. He kept at it, kept punching the heavy bag as if his life depended on it. Or maybe his sanity. Maybe both did and there was no way to separate them anymore. Jim had trailed after him for almost an hour before asking whether there was a specific place he wanted to be. The gym would have been his choice but he wasn't about to walk there in the middle of the night.

They had settled on walking around instead, and that had helped. For a couple of days. Now, Leonard stood there, alone save for some passing Academy instructor, a couple of days into the holiday break.

Some particularly strong punches and some more cracking bones later, Leonard stopped. He ignored the longer glance that the same woman was giving him, and waited for her to leave before setting bones back.

He tentatively flexed his fingers, and everything seemed to be in the right place. He left the heavy bag aside, for the time being, considering the lingering presence by the door behind him.

"Can I help you, Jim," Leonard turned around, and yeah, there stood his roommate. "Or are you just going to be a creep?"

"What, no, I…" He trailed off. Jim looked particularly dumbfounded by something. "How?" Seeing his lack of response, Jim gestured toward him. He was still not making much sense.

Leonard looked down at himself then, since Jim was behaving weirdly enough. He was wearing a simple tank top and some old comfortable pair of shorts. From there, what Jim actually meant became an easy guess.

"How the hell does a doctor get _that_ many scars?"

Maybe, just _maybe_ that was what the Physical Conditioning instructor had been wondering as well.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be for the holidays?" Leonard asked in lieu of answering.

"My mother's off in space somewhere and I have no idea where my brother is," Jim said with a shrug, suddenly shying away from eye contact. "So, no, not really." He fully moved into the gym. "Why are _you_ here?"

"Spending extra energy," Leonard simply replied, avoiding the actual question of why he was still in Academy grounds as well. And that was it, for whatever conversation they could have at that point.

Leonard stood off to the side, watching as Jim started lifting weights. The man's whole demeanor had changed, and sure, he realized he shouldn't have pushed the kid away like that. He couldn't be that bad.

*****

Jim had only the best of intentions. He would swear on it. Which was why he got in a fight that night. One could assume that in the 23rd century, people would know how to not make an ass of themselves, but some folks weren't there just yet. Both Jim and this stranger might also have drunk a little more than they should.

So he got between a guy and this alien girl. He got punched for it, but he knew how to punch back. She had offered to accompany him to a clinic somewhere after everything had calmed down, but he waved her away and left the bar.

He had no idea how bad he looked, staggering through the door the way he did, but the way Bones frowned at him, fresh out of Starfleet Medical and still in uniform, told him enough.

Bones was quick to have him sit down, and maybe it was a good thing he kept a medkit on him at apparently all times. Jim still flinched slightly at the touch of the antiseptic.

"What the hell happened, Jim?" Bones asked, backing away to fetch the dermal regenerator.

"Can you actually keep one of those?" Jim deflected, but Bones simply glared at him for the unnecessary question. He sighed, "Got in a fight."

"Kinda figured that much." He waited a moment, a long moment before he looked away from Jim's face. "Doesn't seem like anything's broken." Jim frowned at the comment, but Bones simply ran the regenerator over the apparently many cuts and bruises on his face. "Was it worth it?"

Worth it? He went to the bar to find a holiday hookup and ended up in a fight, so at least on that front, no, it wasn't. But it was infinitely better than letting someone's first impression of Earth be created by an idiot. "The clientele is much better than a creep," he said with a small smile.

Bones huffed out a laugh. "You've got a bleeding heart, kid."

"Gotta be able to actually help someone, for a change," Jim babbled on before his brain could catch up with his mouth. He froze as soon as the words came out, but Bones looked at him with a smile that was nothing short of sympathetic. Okay, maybe Jim could actually come to like this doctor. He couldn't be that bad.

*****

The next time it happened, Leonard woke up with a jolt, sitting upright before his eyes could adjust to the darkness around him. His hand darted to the small space between the mattress and the headboard, slightly pulling out the knife neatly hidden there.

He waited. Everything was so silent… His eyes soon scanned the room, and ' _stupid_ ' didn't quite cover how he felt. It took him a moment too long, but he recognized his surroundings, and Jim's soft breathing on the other side of the room helped bring him to reality.

Leonard sighed, deflating and letting go of the knife. This was a terrible idea, to begin with. Space was decidedly not the place for him, but Earth was starting to feel too small.

He walked out of the bedroom, ignoring the grumbles Jim let out as he moved on his bed, slowly waking up. From the corner of his eye, Leonard could see Jim blink away the last signs of sleep. He'd deal with whatever Jim saw some other time.

*****

The next time it happened, Jim managed to wake up without a sound, for a change. Maybe even more surprising was the fact that Bones was still in the room. Asleep. He was pretty sure that was a first.

Jim's mind wandered back through the year. It went to the nightmares they both seemed to be dealing with, no matter how badly; to the knife Jim could swear he saw as he briefly woke up once.

He made a point of not talking about it, just as Bones never mentioned the packed food he sometimes surrounded himself with. It was a strange, unspoken agreement they had.

Not that it would work for long, Jim had to admit. He turned onto his back, stretching his arms above him. His whole body felt stiff and it seemed clear that he wasn't going back to sleep.

*****

Sure, it had been a cold day -- and an even colder evening, with all the rain and wind -- but it didn't, in Leonard's opinion, warrant the dorm heater being as high as it was. Leonard walked straight into their living room only to find a mess of blankets over the couch. He placed a hand over them, looking for the body lying under it all.

"Jim," he called, slightly shaking the man underneath, but he got no response. "Wake up, kid," he tried again and got the same silence. Leonard gently pulled the blankets, the three of them, from over Jim's head. He was flushed down to his neck, asleep with a layer of sweat covering his features.

Leonard placed a hand on his forehead and the resulting shiver was Jim's only response to it. He was burning with a fever. Frowning, Leonard reached into the medkit he was still carrying, taking a hypospray out. "Just because I don't get sick," he spoke to himself as he adjusted the dosage in the hypo, "Doesn't mean you don't."

After injecting its contents into Jim's neck and tossing the empty hypospray aside, Leonard waited for the first signs of awareness before removing the rest of the covers. Jim turned around at that, whimpering something unintelligible until he registered Leonard's presence. "Bones?"

"Were you expecting anyone else?" Leonard pulled him into a sitting position and then, as gently as he could, made him stand up. Jim swayed briefly before gaining his footing. "With the Denobulan flu going around, you're supposed to show up at Medical, ya know?"

Jim hummed as a response, leaning against the doctor's side. Leonard sighed, slowly walking with him toward the bathroom. "Sometimes, you're more trouble than you're worth, kid," he whispered.

He muttered something about checking in on the others first. Leonard knew that tone, heard it the first time he was around to see Jim waking up, and it hadn't been nice, whatever it was that woke him up. And it seemed that Jim wasn't that willing to walk either. He tried pushing Leonard away more times than the doctor would bother counting, almost as if he wasn't recognizing him anymore. Jim could barely stand without dangerously swaying to one side, so Leonard kept his hold despite the protests.

He brought the younger man in front of him as soon as they were through the bathroom door. "Stay still," Leonard said as he pulled Jim's t-shirt over his head. He tried to keep the piece of clothing from leaving his arms, but Leonard simply tugged it off with a little more force.

It made him pause. For some reason, he hadn't expected the thin and mostly faded scars, probably about a decade old, scattered across Jim's back. For the time being, Leonard chose to pay no mind to them. Jim was still resisting, mumbling unintelligible pleas as Leonard moved on to remove his pants as well. He stopped for a moment. Jim needed a shower in order to lower his body temperature -- there was only so much the hypo could do -- but he seemed way too unsteady to be left on his own.

With a resigned sigh, Leonard toed his shoes off, pulled the sleeves of his uniform up and stepped into the shower. Jim tensed as soon as the water started running, his eyes unfocused as if he was looking up at the sky outside.

"It's just a shower, Jim," Leonard spoke as a response to the tighter grip on his arm, testing the water with his free hand.

It didn't seem to do much, however, and the moment Leonard brought him under the water, Jim let out a desperate gasp and stopped breathing for all intents and purposes.

"It's gonna flood." Jim's voice was quiet but just as desperate as before. "I gotta find them, some can't swim," he stumbled over his words, trying once again to push Leonard's arm away from him. "Let me find them, let me get to them, _please_ , I gotta find them."

Leonard looked into his eyes then, wondering just what he was seeing. Certainly not the dorm shower he was under. Jim repeated his plea and tried harder to get away, swapping between scratching Leonard's arm and flailing his arms in whatever direction.

"Jim," Leonard called, steadying him with one hand and trying to at least avoid getting hit by his arms. "There's no one else here," Leonard tried to soothe him, noticing his roommate's quick and shallow breathing, "You got nothing to worry about, it's just you and me here."

"No, no, no, no." Wrong thing to say, it seemed. "They're gonna die, he'll kill them."

"Jim--"

"You can't let them die, they are kids, that's just wrong."

" _Jim_ ," Leonard repeated louder and Jim kept his arms still for long enough. "Just _breathe_." He stepped back, pulling Jim from under the shower. His breathing was erratic but he finally stopped fighting. Small victories, Leonard thought. Jim jerked away from him, somewhat unexpectedly, and hit the wall behind him, almost going back under the water.

Leonard rushed to shut the water off and to take the spare towel from the cupboard, putting it over Jim's shoulder. He slid down, pulling the towel closer to his body as he sat with his knees close to his body. Some plan that had been. Leonard sighed, more annoyed at himself than any other part of the situation, and crouched just a couple of feet from Jim.

"Hey," Leonard spoke softly, listening to Jim's breathing. "I'm gonna need ya to pay attention." It didn't seem to matter how gentle Leonard kept his voice, Jim still curled further into himself, looking anywhere but at Leonard. "Jim, wherever you think you are, I can tell you this is not it." Leonard saw his breath hitch, and continued, "Just listen to me, alright?"

"Bones…?" Jim breathed out, not quite looking up, but Leonard wasn't going to complain about it. He was slowly coming back.

"Yeah," he sat down, not minding how wet his clothes already were. "It's just me, Jim, you and I are at our dorm, Starfleet Academy." Jim sighed, trying to get his breathing under control. Leonard couldn't tell how well that was working. "Nothing here is gonna hurt you or anyone else." A sound not too different from a sob escaped Jim at that, and Leonard had half a mind to reach out. He chose not to. "Hey, it's alright. It's alright, Jim."

Minutes passed without much of a reply, but Leonard could easily hear Jim's breath and small sobs, so he kept on talking. Eventually, the topic became his day in Medical and the admittedly amusing engineering accident of the day. Jim looked up at him with a breathless laugh. Small victories, indeed.

"Hey," Leonard spoke once Jim took a deep breath. "Just keep that up. You're doing great."

"Sorry," Jim whispered into the towel, still working on his breathing, "Need a minute."

"Take your time," Leonard moved to lean against the wall opposite of Jim, "Just don't make me carry you again, you're heavier than you think."

*****

Jim made a point of going straight to the dorm after his meeting with Pike. Second term planning and whatnot, but he had a feeling it was mostly an excuse to spend some time of the last day of the year together. He couldn't complain, it was a nice change of pace. Save for the stern talking he got for avoiding Medical a few days before, anyway.

His plans were, however, to finally drag Bones out with him somewhere that didn't involve _work_ or _studying_. It was all that man seemed to do, and at least one different evening wouldn't kill him.

He punched in his code, called for Bones, but got no response in the dimly lit dorm. What he did get was the unmistakable smell of food. Definitely homecooked, as he would recognize the different takeouts around the Academy. Jim hadn't even realized they had a stove in the dorm. Whatever it was, it smelled good.

He walked further in, and Bones stood over the sink, distracted with whatever he was doing. Jim didn't have the clearest view of the kitchenette, the only source of light being the sunset coming in from the window, but he stayed still, watching the man cook. He seemed relaxed for once.

But Jim was still set on taking him out to a bar.

He walked up to him in a few large steps, almost breezing through the short distance and stopped by his side. "Hey, Bones!" He gave a light smack to his shoulder in order to get his attention. Leonard's head snapped to look at him, eyes wide. The tension was almost palpable: the doctor's jaw set and his hand clenched around… Jim took a quick, cursory glance down, and yeah, he was holding a knife. Cutting some meat.

Jim drew his hand away almost immediately as if it burned him. Or maybe Bones was the one burned. He kept his hands up lest he got a more active reaction. Bones was breathing fast, eyes still on him, but it was as if he didn't recognize Jim. His knuckles were still white, holding the knife tightly. The silence seemed to stretch on for long enough that Jim started to wonder if he should simply take the knife from Bones for his own safety. That would be quite the experience.

A beat of silence later -- that was what Jim assumed had actually passed, at any rate -- and Bones closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He let go of the knife then and ran a hand over his face. A slightly shaky hand, Jim noted, as the other gripped the edge of the sink.

"Alright," he whispered, after another beat of silence, "Alright, it's not one of them." Bones was trying to calm his breathing, looking down at the sink and away from Jim. "He's not one of them, it's safe."

Jim gave the idea of leaving him alone some thought but decided against it. He lowered his arms, confusion turning into concern as Leonard went over his words a second time. Bones covered his mouth, stepping back until he hit the counter. He whispered something Jim couldn't understand through his hand, looking forward in a blank stare as he let himself slide down the cupboard.

Jim stepped closer, kneeling by his side. "Bones," Jim called, keeping his voice as low and soft as he remembered Bones talking to him just days earlier. "Bones, talk to me."

He said something, alright, but it was unintelligible, muffled by his hand. It seemed he realized that one by himself and removed his hand to repeat, "Get the fucking meat away from me."

Jim obliged silently, a little surprised that the meat was the source of the doctor's panic. He took the meat on the cutting board, put it all into a plastic bag and then into the freezer. He also made a point of turning the stove off and putting the lid over the only pan on it.

Who the hell was he trying to fool, Leonard was doing _just fine_ until Jim showed up. He knew himself enough to know that he'd be beating himself over that for a while. He had no room to judge Leonard's triggers when the shower of all things had done him in.

He stared at the pan. It seemed to be some kind of stew. Enough to last them a few days, maybe a week; even longer if Bones decided he'd keep the food for himself. He ignored his thoughts in favor of returning to where he knelt beside Bones. He had moved, his knees close to his body and arms and forehead resting against them. He could see the quick rise and fall of the doctor's chest, and something in Jim twisted at the sight.

Jim reached out, placing a hand on his arm as he called, "Bones--"

He didn't see Leonard's hand move, simply feeling the tight grip on his wrist a second later. Bones was looking at him again, eyes wide and momentarily looking right through him.

"Don't," Bones whispered, and Jim got the message. He let go of the doctor's arm, and in turn, he slowly let go of his wrist. He managed to take a deep breath before asking, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to help you?" Jim shrugged.

Leonard chuckled, a little breathlessly, and the sound relieved Jim of tension he had only distantly acknowledged. "I mean here. The dorm."

Bones was watching him, careful and guarded. More so than when they met on the shuttle ride from Riverside. Jim drew a deep breath in.

"I was going to the bar after the meeting with Pike," Jim started, not missing the doctor's raised eyebrow, clearly a question of ' _why are you here_ '. "Then I thought, _maybe_ I should take Bones, one day out can't possibly do that much damage." He sighed, "I'm sorry."

Bones regarded him in silence for maybe a minute, and Jim tried his best not to squirm under the scrutiny. The doctor shook his head minutely.

"You have nothing to apologize for." Jim opened his mouth to argue, but Bones gave him no opening to talk. "I'm not keen on going out, anyway, not tonight."

Jim let the question of ' _are you ever?_ ' bounce in his mind for a moment, but he didn't voice it.

Bones drew a second deep breath, exhaled it slowly and finally relaxed his posture. "You should still go," Bones said with a shrug and a casual tone, "We can try the stew tomorrow."

Jim frowned, staring at the doctor, his friend, even though they didn't know that much about each other -- and wasn't that an interesting thought. "What if I'm okay staying in?"

"Jim, you--"

Jim abruptly stood up, drawing Bones' attention. "Nope. Not listening." He couldn't help the grin from forming after Bones rolled his eyes. "I'm staying right here," he walked to the fridge and opened it, still looking at Bones, "Until you kick me out of _our_ dorm. By which point you might as well go to a bar with me."

He turned to the fridge, looking for something to drink. Jim's eyes stopped over the bottle of whiskey neatly put away in a corner. He pulled it out to read the label. Single malt. _Aged_. What the fuck?

"Bones," he turned back to him, raising the bottle in his hand into Leonard's view. " _What the fuck?_ "

He shrugged, uncurling from himself. "I told you I'd get you a bottle."

"This is _way_ too fancy, Bones, what--" he stumbled upon his words, taking another look at the label. "Is this _Scottish_?!" Before he could reply, Jim took a pair of glasses, and before Bones could protest to what was obviously happening, Jim sat down beside him again. "No way in hell I'm drinking this alone."

*****

So, they drank and talked. Jim was the one doing most of the talking, truth be told, while Leonard remained focused on his breathing. Jim didn't question whether he was paying attention. Leonard made small comments when appropriate, so he knew he was listening.

"One actual question," Jim spoke, after minutes of silence, his speech slurred from drinking. "Why the _fuck_ did you get this?"

"Your birthday," Leonard replied evenly. "You weren't supposed to go looking."

"I don't like it. My birthday, I mean. The whiskey's great, thanks, Bones." Jim chuckled, drank the rest of his glass and leaned back against the couch.

The silence fell back in place between them, Jim staring at the ceiling, and Leonard at the mostly untouched drink in his hands. Jim moved suddenly, filling his glass once more, as the last few fireworks went off.

Welcome to the 210th anniversary, Leonard thought sullenly, letting out a sigh.

"What?" Jim was looking at him with an openly curious expression, already down to half of his glass. "You're barely drinking, what's up with that?"

Leonard studied him for a moment before replying, "You're wasting good alcohol, Jim." He frowned. "I mean, it's yours, drink it if you want," Leonard waved a hand to placate Jim's oncoming argument. "I'm just saying it doesn't make a difference to me."

"Sober?"

"Entirely."

"What a waste," Jim said, coming short of a pout. Leonard huffed a laugh and shrugged as if to say ' _I told you so_ '. Jim finished the rest of his whiskey and turned to the doctor. "Why did you join the Fleet? Too good credentials to do something you hate."

Leonard turned to him, not surprised at the fact Jim had hacked into his file somehow but rather at the kid's lack of filter. There was no stopping the snort that escaped him, and Jim did pout slightly at that.

"You and The Kid would've gotten along well," he commented absentmindedly, with a softness in his voice and eyes. "Both too curious for your own good." Leonard downed his drink then, as Jim stared as attentively as he could. "After long enough you run out of options."

Jim seemed to briefly consider his words. "You could change careers?" He offered sheepishly, clearly unsure of how much he'd like that himself.

"Trust me, I have," Leonard started, studying Jim's face. The younger man seemed about ready to pass out, definitely too far gone. "Two centuries do that to ya."

Jim made a noncommittal noise at the statement, almost spilling his drink as he tried to stand up with the glass in his hand. "Shit," he muttered, sinking back to the floor. He rested his head against the couch once again, and this time he closed his eyes.

Leonard placed his glass down in the center table and stood up. "Alright, Jim, I guess that's that." He was met with the even breathing of his roommate, not that he particularly expected much else. With a roll of his eyes, Leonard took the glass still in Jim's hand and put it beside his own. He scooped Jim up, arms behind knees and back, and walked into the bedroom.

"I swear to god, Jim," he grumbled as he placed him on his bed. "I've met plenty of people who held their alcohol better than that."

Leonard stood by his bed, considering his own sleep. Jim seemed peaceful, for a change, and Leonard found himself relaxing at the sight. But sleep was likely to be the last thing he got to do that morning, all things considered, so he walked out of the bedroom, leaving Jim to his sleep as he settled on going on a run.

And Jim _did_ sleep deeper than usual, with nothing to wake him up for hours. The slowness in his first few movements explained well enough to him just how much he'd slept. As well as how hungover he was if the headache throbbing behind his eyes was anything to go by.

He stretched onto the bed, burying his face further into the pillow with a groan. He tried his best to ignore the light coming in through the door, but there wasn't much he could do about that.

Forcing an eye open, he took in his surroundings. Bedroom. Right, he did spend the night at the dorm with Leonard. He turned around, slowly and groaning until he was facing the other bed. Empty, and Jim had the feeling it simply hadn't been used.

He turned his attention to the bedside table, sighing in relief at the hypo and water left on it. Jim sat up and reached for the glass of water, drinking it all before taking the hypospray in his hands and pressing it to his neck.

He could certainly appreciate how quickly the medication actually worked. As he stood up, the haze of his hangover faded until there was only the dull pang of a headache. Much more manageable. But with the clarity, also came the memories of their conversation in the previous night.

Whatever Leonard was doing before the Fleet was enough to force him off-planet. He also mentioned something about the last two… Decades? Jim couldn't remember the finer details of Leonard's replies to his admittedly obvious questioning.

Jim moved slowly, yawning and almost missing the way his roommate tensed slightly as he went straight to the kitchenette for some much-needed coffee.

"Mornin' to you too, Jim," Leonard greeted with amusement in his voice. He didn't get up from the couch, simply turning around to look at Jim as he served himself a mug of coffee and walked back to the living room. "I get you're hungover, but isn't that a bit much?"

"Well," Jim sat down on the couch and sipped his coffee before continuing, "I'm sorry, mister 'I'm perfectly sober'." Another sip. "But some of us need the caffeine to really recover."

Leonard rolled his eyes but didn't reply, looking at something in his hands. Jim turned to him, looking him up and down. He seemed tense, just like the previous night. _Shit_. Jim's eyes stopped on his hands, where he idly played with a sheathed knife, maybe military-grade.

So, Jim hadn't imagined it in a half-asleep daze, after all.

"Please, tell me you're not gonna kill me with that." Leonard looked up at him, brow scrunched up in confusion, and Jim gestured down at his hands.

"I'm a doctor, not a serial killer, kid." His expression remained serious, but the amusement was still in his voice.

"All the more reason for you to not have a military knife," Jim spoke into the mug. "Is it a family heirloom, or something?"

"Something like that."

Leonard's reply was curt, and he didn't turn to Jim afterward, back to idly playing with the knife. Jim watched for a moment, waiting for something else. It didn't come. With a deep breath, he mentally steeled himself.

"My stepfather had a lot of old shit," he started, pausing to drink his coffee. "From an old car to some old weaponry. I think he just wanted to intimidate us." Jim shrugged, "Point is, I don't really care," he smirked slightly when Leonard turned to look at him, "As long as you don't try to kill me with it. And if you don't feel like sharing the certainly interesting story of why you have that, whatever, it's cool."

Leonard considered him for a moment, and Jim held his gaze, as open as he could manage it. But he still looked away without a word.

Well, so much for that. Jim decided to change his tactics, despite his own reluctance. He wanted Bones to _trust_ him even if it meant Jim had to lay his own secrets bare. He took a steadying breath in.

"You know, uh," he started, looking into his nearly empty mug, "I… I saw that knife once when I woke up too early in the morning. Thought I was imagining things." He didn't look away from the mug, but he could feel Leonard staring holes into the side of his head. "And I know you saw the ration packs I keep on me sometimes." He chuckled, shaking his head, "Hell, you already saw me have the worst panic attack I've had in nine years." Jim glanced at Bones with a small smile. "I guess trauma does that to a person, huh?"

Jim couldn't hold his gaze this time. Leonard was still guarded, still considering whether to trust him with whatever he wasn't saying, but there was also some of that gentleness in his gaze once again.

"Frank, my stepfather," Jim continued, his voice nearly a whisper, "Was quite an asshole. Couldn't keep his temper under control when mom wasn't home, which happened a lot." He shrugged. "She continued to serve in Starfleet, and I think she still is out there."

His resentment over the lack of contact since he came to the Academy was left unspoken, but he unconsciously gripped the mug a little tighter. He forced himself to relax and drink the rest of the coffee.

"Sam ran away from home at some point, and I…" He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just took the car and drove off." The hint of anger was well audible as he spoke, "I was thirteen, my brother had just left me with our drunk stepfather, and I guess… I wanted to get back at him for making him leave."

Jim placed the mug on the center table and turned to face Leonard. The doctor's hands were still, holding the knife firmly. His eyes, though, remained on Jim the entire time, attentive as very few people in his life had been. He was actually listening to what Jim was saying, and he could only let out a shuddering breath before continuing.

"When he eventually showed up to pick me up at the police station," Jim's voice was quiet again, "He had a bag with my stuff in it." Jim didn't exactly turn away from Leonard, but he couldn't keep eye contact, focusing on the wall behind him instead. "We didn't go home, he took me to the closest shuttle terminal, shoved the bag onto my hands and sent me to an off-planet colony." Jim chose to ignore the way his voice cracked at the end. "I got there to learn he signed me up under a different surname."

Jim paused. A long enough pause for the story to be over, for a subject change, but Leonard regarded him in silence for another moment. Jim took a deep breath, dreading where his story would inevitably go. He couldn't say it wasn't expected, but he could still hope it would have been different.

"It was probably for the better. It was a nice change, not having your name affect how people treat you." Jim brought his attention back to Leonard, and the understanding he found in his expression took him by surprise. Jim squirmed briefly. "For the first few months, it was actually pretty good, everyone had something to do and I managed to make some friends, even," he recalled, actually fond of those months. "But then the governor of the colony started talking about eugenics--"

This time, Leonard was the one to shift on the couch, turning away from Jim with a huff and resting his head on the back of the couch. It was easier to continue without the doctor's scrutiny on him.

"Yeah, it was bad," Jim said with a chuckle at his reaction, "But nothing happened for a while." He sighed, "I was there for seven months when the plague came. It was a mostly rural colony." Jim rubbed his hands together nervously, turning to them down on his lap. "No one was really prepared, and the crops went bad really fast."

Leonard sat up, straightening his back. He was frowning when he turned to Jim once again. "You were on Tarsus IV." Jim's breath caught in his throat. It was definitely not a question, but he still nodded. "And then I'm the paranoid one for warning about eugenics," he scoffed.

Jim's smile was brief. "Some other kids and I were--" He closed his mouth, breathing deeply, repeatedly. That was hardly a conversation he would like to have sober. Or at all. But he had already started it. "We were among the two thousand who were going to be killed. All based on his crazy ideas of eugenics." Jim paused, running his hands over his face before tears threatened to fall at the memory. "The whole colony smelled _rotten_ , Bones," he breathed out, "It was a nightmare going back every night to get something to give to a _seven-year-old_ child hiding in a cave."

Jim stopped talking before he gave himself an anxiety attack over the memories. Leonard was deathly quiet on the other side of the couch, and Jim wasn't sure if he could continue.

"Jim," Leonard called with a familiar gentleness that made him shudder, drawing his attention once again. "For how long were you there like that?"

"A month or something," he shrugged. "We almost weren't found, too, hidden way too far from the colony."

Leonard studied him for a short moment. "You were the one to find Phil, weren't you? Doctor Boyce?"

Jim almost forgot how to breathe. "How the hell do you know that?"

Leonard let out a deep, long sigh. "Phil was among the first responders." He rested his head against the back of the couch once again, staring at the ceiling. There was a foreign weight to his voice as he muttered, "I was one of the people responsible for clearing out the bodies, so I guess you were already long gone."

After maybe a minute of silence, Leonard tossed the knife to the side, onto the space between them on the couch, and stood up. He walked to the kitchenette in quick, large steps before Jim could ask anything. Jim picked up the knife, removing the sheath carefully. It was still sharp. Engraved on the base of the blade, he read "R.R.T.S. - 2041" and under it, "Reaper".

From the counter, Leonard watched Jim examine what might as well be his oldest belonging. He let out a sigh as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the fridge and a glass cup from the cupboard and walked back. "Hope you don't mind," he said, raising the bottle in question before setting it on the table with the glass.

"Thought you said alcohol doesn't affect you," Jim questioned, virtually shoving the knife back into the sheath and onto the couch. "That's definitely not for me, I'm already hungover."

"You seem to remember more of our conversation last night than you're letting on," Leonard commented with mild surprise, "For someone who basically suddenly passed out." Jim's expression turned indignant, and Leonard snorted out a laugh. "No, it doesn't, Jim. Doesn't mean the burning down my throat isn't grounding." He poured the whiskey into the glass and sat down with it in his hands.

Leonard held it but didn't drink from the glass. He glanced at Jim and at his knife before sighing.

"I, uhm…" Leonard trailed off, staring down at his glass. "That knife is… Less family heirloom, and more a personal belonging." Jim frowned, confused. "It was--" He interrupted himself with a huff. "It was part of my standard equipment for a while, I guess."

"It was-- What-- What are you--" Jim stuttered before understanding dawned on him and he stilled. "A career change."

"Might as well tell me you remember the entire conversation, Jim."

"Most of it, but don't change the subject!" Jim gestured wildly at him. His voice lost much of the anxiousness it had before as he questioned, "What the hell were you doing to have a _military knife_ , Bones?"

Leonard drank his glass of whiskey in one go, setting it down beside the bottle. "Give me the knife," he spoke with an extended hand and an edge of command in his voice. Jim passed it silently, eyes full of either surprise or apprehension. Leonard assumed a mix of both.

Jim kept his eyes on his hand, something definitely easier on Leonard's own nerves. He unsheathed the knife with practiced care and held it against his palm. He'd done this whole thing before, it wasn't _that_ bad. Leonard pressed the blade down, dragging it across his hand. The sting of breaking the skin lasted only a short time, but the metal quickly warmed as blood pooled on his palm all the same.

For once, though, his focus was taken from the light prickle of the closing wound. Jim was crouching in front of him, for all it mattered, as soon as he did it, reaching for the knife to toss it onto the center table. He took hold of Leonard's hand, mindful to not let the blood fall from it.

Jim had to eventually realize that his hand wasn't _bleeding_ , the amount of blood wasn't changing and it _wouldn't_ change. Leonard couldn't do much beyond allowing the moment of inspection. Jim's reaction was unexpected at best, and he simply went along with it. He hesitantly ran a thumb over the line of blood, smudging it slightly. There was no cut and Jim frowned as he realized that.

"Jim--"

"I saw it," he whispered, looking up. "There's blood on your hand and on that knife, so what--"

" _Jim_ ," Leonard repeated, more firmly, as he stood up. Jim followed him upward, stepping back. "Stop," he started, walking toward the kitchenette, straight to the sink, "It's fine, so just stop and breathe and let me talk, alright?"

Leonard couldn't see him, but the growing silence meant Jim did just that. But he still hadn't started talking. He stood over the sink, washing the blood away from his hand for way longer than necessary, trying to find a place to start.

"Well," Leonard started with a sigh as he walked back to the living room. Jim had already sat down, glaring at him as he moved. "You saw the healing." Jim nodded. His hand was clean and in one piece as if Leonard hadn't pressed a sharp knife against it. He sat down with a deep breath. This was already a much bigger problem than Leonard would have liked to make it, but he owned Jim an explanation after the whole damn semester.

"In 2046, a distress signal was sent from a… A private research outpost on Mars." Leonard kept his eyes straight ahead. He could feel where his body tensed but refused to relax. "There was a security breach in one of their labs, and they called in the _actual_ military," Leonard scoffed the words, "Since their own security couldn't deal with the problem."

Leonard didn't have to turn to Jim to know he had quite a confused expression; he would be confused himself if he'd gotten this story instead of an explanation. He would have to bear with it. Leonard reached forward, taking the bottle in hands and pouring way more than a shot of whiskey into the glass. He drank about half of it before continuing.

"The problem lab was Genetics. Or where it all started, anyway." He paused, taking a deep breath that came out way too shaky for his liking. " _Fuck_ ," he whispered. "The whole thing had the front of an archeological dig," Leonard's voice had an edge of anger to it, "But as soon as humanoid remains were found, _that_ analysis became their focus."

Jim was deathly silent on the other end of the couch, and Leonard could only spare a glance at him. He had his hands clasped together over his lap as he kept his attention solely on him as he spoke. His expression, Leonard found, was somewhat hard to read; he might not see the point of any of this but he seemed to refuse to let that show. Leonard still had plenty to say either way.

"Some of the remains found had an extra chromosome in an apparently human genome." His voice went quiet. "It made them superhuman; stronger, faster, a metabolism that worked way better." Leonard didn't miss the initial flick of understanding in Jim's face. "They had gotten rid of diseases, but in the end, it was that 24th chromosome that destroyed them. When it didn't take well," he paused, "They mutated. Anything between a zombie and an actual monster, but they weren't anywhere close to whatever they were before."

Leonard drank the rest of the whiskey in his glass, examining it for a moment longer. He heard Jim breathe in to speak.

"It's what happened in Olduvai," Leonard interrupted before he could begin talking. He found Jim's mouth hanging open when he turned to look at him. His voice was solemn as he continued, "They were quick to turn to human experiments after they isolated the extra chromosome. They created a monster and couldn't contain it.

"Eight marines were sent to deal with it," he said, refilling his glass. "It took the death of seven of them and of over two hundred scientists and civilians to make sure no mutant got out on Earth."

"Are you saying…" Jim trailed off, trying to word his question well.

Leonard nodded and raised his glass in a particularly sad kind of toast. "Slaughtering I saw first-hand, 210 years ago."

He had no idea what sort of expression he had on his face after he drank the last glass of whiskey, couldn't be bothered to school it into something neutral either way. Jim, on the other hand, was frowning, lost in thought for a moment.

"What happened in there?" He asked slowly. "To you?"

"Lead bullet to my left femoral artery, among other slightly less serious injuries," Leonard replied with the precision and calm of the doctor he had become only in his voice, as he absently rubbed a thumb on the glass. "I was bleeding to death when my sister made the call to inject me with C24." He shrugged, smiling slightly, "It was one hell of a risk but I guess she knew me better."

"Is she…?"

"Dead?" Jim looked away, once again rubbing his hands. He wasn't as hard to read as he tried to make himself, or maybe it was just their current situation. "Jim, it's been two centuries, what do you think happened?" For all Jim hesitated to ask, Leonard found it easier to _talk_ than he had expected. "Samantha died of natural causes early in the 22nd century."

"I'm sorry," Jim responded quickly, "I really shouldn't be asking anything, this is clearly quite personal."

" _That's_ what you are worried about?"

"I…" He sighed. "Listen, you've been alive for two centuries, and it's none of my business how, but it doesn't take a genius to guess that Mars and your sister weren't your only losses." Jim ran his hands over his face, breathing in deeply. "Bones, I… I don't even know your actual name, do I?"

"It doesn't even matter, Jim," Leonard defended. "What you need to know is just that; I was once a soldier, stopped aging, eventually became a doctor."

"Eventually," Jim repeated with a quirked brow. Leonard chose to ignore it. "Is that how you met Doctor Boyce?"

Leonard simply shook his head. "I met him in transport back to Earth, fifteen years ago. I was already a doctor for _some_ time."

Jim didn't ask anything beyond that, and the silence that fell was heavy, neither of them daring to break it for the time being. Jim briefly looked down at the knife on the table before meeting Leonard's gaze once again.

"You really should start asking your questions," Leonard stated matter-of-factly. "I got _that_ knife when I joined the R.R.T.S. -- Rapid Response Tactical Squad," he quickly added.

"Do you even realize how ridiculous, not to say stupid, that sounds?" Jim chimed in with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Because that sounds really ridiculous when you say it out loud."

"Yeah," he replied with a genuine smile, "Yeah, in hindsight it really is. But they were soldiers; not particularly good at naming anything. It's a good thing Starfleet has more diplomats than soldiers." He stood up, unceremoniously putting the bloodied knife in the cup and picking up the whiskey bottle as well, "Besides, there were worse ways to learn what your handle would be."

Jim frowned, following Leonard with his eyes as he walked back to the kitchenette. "So you're saying…" Jim started after he placed the bottle back in the fridge. "They called you Reaper?" Leonard hummed his affirmative from where he stood by the sink. He could hear Jim's sharp intake of breath but he didn't say anything. Only after the second breath in, Jim said, "Shit, I can't… I'm sorry…"

It seemed the whole thing _finally_ sank in. Leonard sighed, leaving the knife and glass in the sink as he turned around to look at Jim, who in turn looked genuinely sorry. For what, Leonard couldn't quite place.

"Jim, you don't have to do this." He shrugged at the scrunched up brow he got in response, "Hiding behind humor. Maybe it's just me, but it's obvious you're forcing it."

"Bones, you--"

Leonard simply raised a hand and Jim fell silent. "Yeah, it's bad, but trust me, Jim, it's been worse." He couldn't help the rueful laugh that escaped him. "I know that sometimes it looks like I'm barely holding it together -- hell, it took prescription sleeping aids for me to get a _decent_ night of sleep in here, but..." He took a deep breath, thinking his next words over carefully. "I know it's the same for you, Jim. Not the meds, I guess," he commented with a small smile, "But this," he spoke, gesturing between the two of them, and Jim knew well what he referred to, "None of this will get any easier. The past doesn't go away, you either learn to live with it, or it haunts you. And let me tell you," he forced himself to relax, walking back to their living room and letting himself fall back on the couch, "You seem to be doing a way better job at this whole thing than I am."

"What, you got a degree in psychology as well?" Jim asked defensively but groaned at the smirk he earned in response. "How the hell am _I_ doing any better?" Jim crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit like the _young_ man he was. "You're here, still doing _something_ with yourself." Jim wasn't facing him anymore, staring at some spot in particular on the floor. "I can't imagine… I don't think I could… Do that."

"Jim," Leonard called, at least to make sure he was paying attention. "What the hell are you doing in the Academy if not _something_?" Jim opened his mouth to reply but said nothing in the end, sighing instead. "Give yourself _some_ credit, kid, whatever your reason, it counts. The fact you are here _at all_ counts."

Jim didn't reply, and minutes passed in silence. Leonard briefly considered saying something else, but the shaky exhale drew his attention once again.

"I don't think I've ever talked about it," Jim commented, his voice laden with emotion. "In nine years, I don't think I've ever talked to _anyone_ about what happened. So, uh…" Jim smiled sheepishly. "Thanks for listening."

"Thanks for trusting me with it," Leonard replied simply, and, after a beat, added, "If it means anything, you're, what, the second person to hear about Olduvai since it happened."

"Well," Jim grinned, genuinely this time around, "Thanks for trusting me."

_I will slip again, and you'll find me  
I will live again, and you'll find me_

_Run, but carry the meanings of your past_

_We're on our way to better days  
We'll find our faith, we'll find a way_

"But Bones, the question is…" Jim trailed off, the fork stopping in the air, "Wait, should I call you something else?" He turned the fork around, pointing the piece of beef in Leonard's direction. "I mean, between 'Bones' and 'Reaper'..."

"It's fine, Jim," Leonard spoke between bites, "As long as I'm in Starfleet, I'm just Doctor Leonard McCoy."

"Yeah," Jim resumed eating, "Doctor, may I remind you, who ended up being talked about for the whole first week of classes." He paused for another bite of beef. "And who is still remembered for the _not-actually-drunken_ panic in the shuttle ride."

"Give me a break," Leonard scowled, pointing a kale chip at him, "It wasn't that bad."

Jim hummed his doubtful response and simply continued eating. The end of the holiday break entailed the steady return of cadets to the Academy, but so far, they could still talk as usual on Academy grounds.

"Your flight panic aside, and trust me, we'll work on that --" Leonard rolled his eyes at the statement. "Oh, no, you're not getting away," Jim said with a smirk. "Anyway, did you actually test out of physical conditioning classes?"

Leonard nodded, looking at Jim with suspicion. "No point in taking them basically all over again."

"Great," Jim leaned back on the chair, regarding Leonard in silence for a brief moment. "How long do you think it will take to get piloting out of the way?"

"I'm trying to figure out how I let you talk me into a starship posting before I do _that_."

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad," Jim shrugged, "And it's much better than some starbase posting."

"Sure, whatever," Leonard let out a defeated sigh. "I'm not piloting a shuttle unless absolutely necessary either way and I don't think that qualifies."

Jim furrowed his brow. "Wait, are you saying you _can_ pilot a shuttle?" Jim could only stare in mild surprise, which in turn caused Leonard to laugh. "What the hell, what else haven't told me?"

"Honestly?" Leonard leaned back as Jim leaned forward once again. "A lot, but that's something for another time."

**Author's Note:**

> Songs: [Vagabond](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fomj9DQ8vts), [No Roots](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUdyuKaGQd4), [Bones](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zzyvtk1Ea1g), [Better Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FriqUwKLHE)
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this fic! Did you have any favorite bits of this one? It got out of hand as usual and now I'm posting this at 4 am on December 23rd. Go me. Last fic of the year.
> 
> Feel free to stop by my [tumblr](https://weresilver-in-space.tumblr.com/) and say hi! :D


End file.
